Lake Effect
Lake Arthur top choice for most Pittsburgh sailors : Source: Added Feature from City Paper's Health and Fitness Guide from 6/22/2006, Writer: Melissa Meinzer Goldberry stands out among the aluminum-hulled workhorse boats parked by Lake Arthur on a sunny, breezy afternoon. Her hull is mahogany, her mast Douglas fir. Gleaming ash lends elegance to the fixtures and seats. Yet according to Garth Jones, who made Goldberry from scratch, her maiden voyage was notably humble: She ventured out as a mere rowboat, on an expedition navigating the Allegheny River to test her seaworthiness. The most obvious spot for boating in Pittsburgh, the rivers, are less than ideal for sailing. They’re too narrow and dangerous for all but the heartiest skippers. So would-be sailors’ best bet is to make the trek to Lake Arthur, in Moraine State Park. There, newbies can rent easily manageable boats and get the hang of things in some of the gentler breezes on Lake Arthur. More experienced sailors, like Jones, can find wind enough for thrills and speed, too. The wide boat is tippy in the water at first, enough to scare the bejeezus out of a guest who’s never sailed before. But on the open water, Goldberry is stable and serene. “It’s only been done for about a month,” Jones says. “It’s only been out three or four times.” And it probably won’t return to the rivers again. “The winds are flukey, there’s barges, dams … things happen.” Indeed, while a few brave souls can be found sailing the rivers, most local sailors prefer Lake Erie, or 3,225-acre Lake Arthur, located about an hour’s drive into Butler County. River sailing is “much more difficult,” says Hannah Spigler of Crescent Bay Boat Rental, at Lake Arthur. “You have to zigzag in a pattern and rivers don’t have as much room. This is kind of a putter-around lake. It’s a gorgeous lake to sail.” Spigler also points to the consideration sailors on Lake Arthur show each other, making it great for beginners and old sea dogs alike. “There’s plenty of depth and often a steady breeze, and the lake does have several fingers” so the wind is of varying levels of intensity, for sailors of varying intensity. On this voyage, Jones is sailing gently because of his inexperienced passenger — the jib is down, so the boat doesn’t pick up too much speed. But when the leaves at home in Squirrel Hill are trilling, and he’s unencumbered by wussy guests, he says he likes to take full advantage of the wind. Goldberry — named after a river spirit who appears briefly in Lord of the Rings, Jones explains while pushing his glasses up his nose — is based on northern Scottish designs. “If you went to Scotland maybe 1,000 years ago, you’d see a line of these boats ready to go and catch fish in the morning,” Jones says. The sails, a main sail and a jib, are sort of a red-brown color called tanbark. “It’s a traditional fishing-boat color,” he says. “If you’re out at sea, your boat is that much more visible from land.” Despite all the emphasis on tradition, the rigging is actually quite high-tech, made from a polymer called Vectran, which Jones says is stronger and less stretchy than steel. Jones learned to sail as a kid in Kansas — yes, he says, there are puddles big enough to sail there — but he says building the boat was a learning experience. He says there are small things only he can see that he already wishes he’d done differently. “It’s always a work in progress,” says Jones, who builds custom furniture at Slaughterhouse Gallery, in Lawrenceville. At just over 19 feet long, with a 16-and-a-half-foot mast, it took Jones about a year to build. Before Goldberry was built, though, he still enjoyed the lake in a borrowed aluminum boat. “You get a good feeling, getting out there and enjoying the lake,” Spigler enthuses. “There’s lot of math work involved, calculating angles of sails and wind.” That proved lucky for Jones. He tried teaching his wife to sail years ago with no success, but finally some of her colleagues in graduate school mathed it up for her, putting it in terms of angles and vectors. Now, he says, they are pretty much partners in sailing. There is, however, no parrot. And while he knows a few sea chanties, Jones won’t share them. “Nobody wants to hear me sing.”